


Hana Solo: Dawn of Hope A Star Wars Story

by Trikkster



Series: Hana Solo Chronicles [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Altered Character Past, F/F, F/M, Female Solo, Non-Canon Relationship, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-03-28 06:12:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13897977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trikkster/pseuds/Trikkster
Summary: It has always been her against the galaxy and she'd always scoffed at the outdated ideal of "The Force". But what happens when Hana Solo finds herself in a position where she can help save the galaxy from the darkness of the Imperial Forces and begins to realize there may be some substance to this outdated ideal? That it might not have to always be her against the world? The first installment of a retelling of Star Wars 4-6 with Han as a female, started in honor of the impending Han Solo movie. This one in particular is a retelling of Star Wars Episode 4.  SPOILERS AHEAD FOR ANYONE NOT FLUENT WITH THE ORIGINAL TRILOGY!!!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a project that has been sitting in my mind as a "what-if" story for quite a long time. What if Han was a female? How would that change her mannerisms, her past, and how she interacts in her risky trade and business? Due to the fact that she is a female, I have taken liberties with recreating her origins and past, and some of her mannerisms are different due to her circumstances. Creating a finger-on-the-trigger, sharp-tongued, spit fire of a woman, and one hell of a pilot! I certainly hope that you enjoy this tale, which will follow along with many scenes of the original trilogy for the most part, but will also put its own spin on things and incorporate new completely original scenes! Any original concepts by me I take ownership of, all other Star Wars aspects, yeah, I don't own it, so I'm not rich. :( Also, fair warning to the faint of heart, Hana starts out as a anti-hero here, so there will be language and crude comments, and drinking. Because I like drinking and my characters do too. ;)

The twin Tatooine suns beat down-because shining down would be far too gentle for such a planet- on the spaceport of Mos Eisley, warming the inhabitants to a state that inspired irritation and decreased patience. Arguments could be heard amongst the Docking Bays between pilots who were certain another had stolen one of their tools and amongst smugglers and their hires having “discussions” over how much missions and their cargos were worth, given how many rules might be broken to accomplish said missions. 

Bounty hunters lurked around every corner, seeking to make a quick profit. After all, if you were in the darkest, most violent spaceport of Tatooine, you definitely weren’t there on vacation, and weren’t necessarily wanting to play things on the right side of Galactic Imperial Law. In other words, for the hunters the port meant they were bound to find someone who was on another creature in the galaxy’s wanted list. It was just a matter of how high the reward was, and how easy the target could be taken down. Like the weakest of a herd of Kybucks were chosen to be taken down by predators, the weakest of the wanted clients of Eisley were quickly picked off. Sure it was less gain for the hunter, but to pick off one of the dumber targets by lunch was a quick way to make at least some credits. 

There were of course hunters that liked to take on larger prey, that sought the challenge of a target that had bested many creatures before, that had done more things to piss off some other being in the galaxy, and that had racked up a much more sizeable bounty. Many hunters who tried to take on said prey failed, either with their prey getting away, or, if said prey chose the fight part of Fight-or-Flight, with their prey taking them out. It was a game of live, get locked away, or die in the port, and it kept the targets' ears on edge, the hunters' eyes keen, and all fingers quick on the trigger. Everyone was looking for gain and trying to avoid loss, and trying to make sure their inventory only ever stayed the same or increased with all of the thieving Jawas running about. Such an atmosphere created an endless realm of indiscernible chatter around Docking Bay 94 and the large, clunky ship it held. Not that the occupant cared to try to discern said chatter as she sought to repair the latest issue of the vessel.

The woman leaned up on the tip toes of her heavy brown knee high combat boots, the windows and door of her large ship temporarily open to allow at least some circulation to pass through the vessel as she worked on the hyper drive. Not that the circulation helped very much, seeing as the air outside was just as dry and hot -if not more so- than the air inside. 

The woman's black canvas pants, as thin as could be allowed in the cold recesses of space, didn't offer much relief from the intense heat as they raced up her legs, almost melding to her skin with the sweat the heat of the planet caused her to produce, further bound to her smaller frame by the dark leather straps of the holsters holding her twin blasters to her thighs. The pants were also topped off by a dark brown belt with plenty of leather pouches attached to it, holding each and every tool she could possibly need for a quick fix regarding the ship she piloted. She was rarely seen without it hugging her narrow waist. Not only did she keep the belt with her, she also prided herself in knowing the ship like the back of her hand, and knew where any larger spare tools she may need were stored on the craft.

She grunted, arching up higher, moving onto her tip toes as she continued to push and shove and pop out devices on the panels before her as she attempted to figure out just what was causing her latest issue. As she was stretching her taut muscular arms up higher over her head her black cargo vest, made of the same canvas as was used for her pants, lifted up as well. 

The vest’s pockets also held more tools and spare parts she might need, and had a hidden pouch holding some galactic credit standards she kept handy for either spare parts she might need to purchase from wherever she was docked at or for just a quick drink in nearby cantinas. Her copilot often wondered which use diminished said standards more. But she never let them completely deplete, she always reminded him before tossing another shot back. To her that was a magnificent accomplishment. Underneath the vest was a cream colored long sleeve top of thinner material that raced down her arms to stop just above her wrists and that reached down to just beneath her chest, leaving her main abdominal area exposed to the desert heat.

Beneath the lower lip of the shirt was the beginning of a large marking embedded into her skin resembling a ship that for the most part was circular like a sun or moon with a two pronged top, the ends of which pointed up towards the woman's face whilst the more circular end of the picture’s ship swooped over her lower abs. The picture was heavily detailed, the ship in the design having many angular lines in alternating tones of silver and black that shone against the woman's tan, toned stomach, with a long silver line making up the bottom curve. 

When she'd first gotten the marking, the design had been more painful than your standard galactic tattoo, seeing as all of the silver parts were in actuality metal scraps taken from her ship, the one honored in the design. To many the cost of the marking and the risk of embedding the metal into her skin was superfluous, an unnecessary expense and risk. But to her wearing her ship around with her, taking it wherever she might go, was only natural.

It was her ship, no one else’s , and it would ALWAYS be her ship, til the day the two of them were blasted out of existence. All of this was another reason why SHE was fixing what was wrong with her vessel, rather than having someone else work on it. It was a rarity that she ever let anyone outside of her and her copilot repair the vessel she called home, and that was only ever in circumstances when it was a problem too complex for her to handle. Therefore, she grunted, arching her head back more to try to see the panel she was working with better, a screwdriver/welding laser combination tool held firmly between her teeth, her nostrils flaring with a dark steel stud piercing poking out of the upper part of the left one.

Her chest heaved against the long leather strip that raced down from her neck. The piece of jewelry had a metal lined pendant of a star dangling from it, the metal going down to hang just above where her breasts began. The star held many shards of glass and crystal welded together to create a multi-colored design that shone and twinkled in any light. Just above the base of the strap on her throat was an old white scar, a thick white band that encircled her neck perfectly, the skin stretched and contracted there in a grotesque manner due to prolonged damage to the epidermis, the nerves beneath that shot completely. She often joked that if anyone grabbed her by her throat out of anger, she wouldn't feel it. That was helpful, she claimed, since the best thing she did was piss people off, and so she’d been grabbed at multiple times.

Her arms beneath the shirt were beginning to sweat straight through the material like her legs had already done beneath her pants, the ends of them being donned with fingerless, brown leather gloves. Her fingers themselves sticking out of the ends had only nubs for nails, bitten down by harsh metal to the point where they were nearly nonexistent and stained black from years of tinkering and interacting with the oil of her ship’s parts. Calluses donned the pads of the fingers as they worked skillfully over the metal plate holding the wires she had pinpointed as the problem causing her hyper drive to malfunction. She'd already unscrewed the plate but now it was a matter of jiggling it out in just the right way to get to the wires underneath. It was caught on itself, being a part of a very old ship, and with a grunt, she narrowed her dark brown eyes and jerked back quickly, determined to get it off. Without her hyper drive working properly, she was screwed. 

With a grating noise the plate came free, some dust from inside spilling out.  
She smirked around the tool in her mouth and turned to a pocket of her belt, fumbling around inside as one of the suns caught on the long metallic earring she wore in her right ear, a metal spike piercing going through the lobe of her left ear as its only decoration. The right ear by contrast was accessorized much more elegantly with a piercing that led to a long metal chain that brushed against her shoulder, donned with multi-colored metallic shards spiraled and bent in unique and eclectic ways.

Against the long earpiece hung a dark dirty mop of long brown hair, sectioned out in dreadlock like tendrils due to the fact that she needed to wash it that evening. After all, she figured she needed to at least twice a week on Tatooine, rather than her normal once a week quota. Past that requirement, she felt no need to further groom her tresses. The only person she really interacted with was her co pilot, and if she smelled or had mats, he far surpassed her! So, she let her oily, sweaty mane hang freely on the right side of her head. For far too long she’d been forced to clean it religiously, keeping it impeccable to please others. That only made her want to wash it less, in order to please herself. And besides, the thicker it became with dirt and sweat, the more it acted as a curtain against any bounty hunter that might be looking to profit from catching her whenever she went into the cantinas. The other side of her head wasn't quite so lucky, and was far too unique in her opinion. It made her a quick target for those who knew of her.

The entire left side of her scalp had long since been removed of any follicles of hair, leaving sleek tan skin underneath that covered her skull and what lay within, dotted with light scars from encounters gone south that criss-crossed over the blemished canvas. In addition to the scars, along the skin there were two sweeping black markings with dark blue outlines, curved on the inside edges and spiked on the outer ones, arching up in the direction of her spine to just beneath the peak of her skull and then curling around towards her temple, tapering off over her left shoulder to end at the crest of it.

She reached up with some binding tape from her belt pouch and began to tackle the frayed wires she’d determined were guilty of causing her ship's latest issues, covering their frayed edges with the tape before taking her screwdriver's laser and searing off the material, effectively melting the tape and binding the wires together, before sliding the screwdriver into her back pocket. Whipping out an electronic reader much like those found on droid units, she pressed a button and a long thin pole shot out of one end, donned with prongs at the end of it for easy insertion into the outlets on the plates below and above the monitors of her ship. It was a universal device, able to be easily twisted and moved about to get accurate readings. And it was far less expensive than having a clunky droid beeping and rolling about, which just so happened to be the thing she MAY have taken this little device from before modifying it to fit her needs. Needless to say, the droid was not amused.

Bending the prongs to the point where they were just the right size for the outlets on the plate below the wires she'd been working with, she slid them into place and began tapping at the buttons on the device, her forehead screwed up in concentration, pulling at the skin of her experience-aged face. If the current was just as strong on either side of the wires then the issue should be fixed and the circuit of power completed. She bit her dirty lip as the machine beeped slowly, receiving a reading from the ship. Once a beep sounded, she turned and got a similar reading from the plate above the wires. A few moments later she smirked, the issue apparently solved. For now, she thought with a crooked grin that revealed slightly chipped and bent teeth, results just like her calluses of a rough, hard earned life-although she had to admit that her temper and wit were more of the cause of the condition her teeth were in, not the processes required for maintaining her ship.

Screwing the plate back on quickly, she patted the ship in that area with a firm hand, "Try to hold yourself together a bit longer next time ol' girl. Don't make mama work too hard," she whispered in a hoarse but loving voice she never used for another thing in the galaxy, using vocal cords that had been strained beyond help to the point of perpetual hoarseness. Others had commented that it made her sound far too old for her age, and that it also sometimes made it hard to make out what she was saying. But up to that point her ship hadn't complained about her voice, so the opinions of others bothered her little. Her ship was her ultimate partner, and the only thing she'd ever give such weight to.

It was her livelihood, allowing her to smuggle shipments to various parts of the galaxy at top speeds. She had made various modifications to the original design, thus making the ship her own, and making it much faster than the original cargo ship speeds it had flown at before meeting her. These modifications were both a way of ensuring she and her co-pilot alone could instruct how to properly fly the beautiful heap, and to help the ship earn its keep and better her circumstances. After all, the faster it went, the more money she made, and the easier life she lived. It was her lifelong friend and they'd been in more than one tight situation, but always had ended up coming out the other side, even if they had a few more dents and bruises to show for it.

Walking towards the open door, she put both hands up above the door hatch, patting the hard metal of the ship and leaning out slightly into the Tatooine heat, gazing about Docking Bay 94, the suns hitting the metal on her stomach and making it gleam. Most captains left their ships to rest at areas of space ports such as this, so that they themselves could take a break. But she preferred to remain mostly at the Bay, staying close to the ship that was more like her child than her tool.

Various hallways crisscrossed around the Bay and she saw captains and creatures walking about within them, heading to missions to who knew where. She frowned as she watched them all, feeling irritation that they had so many places to go so often. It wasn't like she didn't have places to go on occasion and clients to serve, but she knew she'd be far better off if she had half as many missions as they did. Being a female smuggler, she could have the fastest ship in the whole fucking galaxy and it still wouldn't matter to some-although she would argue that whenever she was in tight spots she had two rather noticeable assets that male pilots failed to have which could offer a simple, quick distraction to most officers or troopers. Regardless of such benefits, the blatant sexual discrimination was a constant irritant to her, and kept her hot-blooded most of the time. 

That's why her copilot went fishing around in the cantinas, not her. He may be able to rip arms off better than her-in fact he could do it quite easily in under a minute-but he was a big softie really, all roar no rip, and would never imagine hurting anyone without proper cause. He created a sharp contrast to her own fiery temper, her shorter lithe body often dwarfed by his larger frame, and she'd never seen him purposely hurt anything unless it was in self defense. Unfortunately she could not honestly say that the same went for herself.

In light of the ironic differences between the two of them, he therefore went fishing about for clients while she waited patiently-or sometimes rather impatiently-at the ship. She bit the inside of her dusty right cheek. He should have been back by now . . . hopefully with some news of creatures needing her services. If he didn't make it back with news soon, she'd be more willing to go find him, accept that the well of Mos Eisley was figuratively dry of any prospective clients, and drag him back to her ship to take off. Her nature made her restless, never wanting to stay in the same place for too long if she could help it. To her that made you a quick target, an easy catch for the galaxy to grab and rough up. And the overarching watchfulness and ever-growing presence of the Empire didn't help ease her tension. She hadn’t met many members of it, and luckily had never crossed paths with Darth Vader, something she would love to avoid for the rest of her life. She wanted to keep it that way. So the fact that she’d been here for a little over a week now was not to her liking. At that moment, a large, furry, burly alien of blue color and beady black eyes paused and pointed at her as he was making his way down a hallway.

 

"What's wrong little girl, need some help with your big bad ship?" he taunted. She rolled her eyes in response. The other male captains were always giving her grief and acting like she wasn't tough enough to handle them. That's how it'd always been: her against the galaxy. And that was how she liked it. If she was against everyone, then that narrowed down her allies in the simplest of ways: in other words, she need only be concerned with herself. She fought for herself, defended herself, worked for herself. And when necessary, ran away for herself. She had no personal strings tying her down, none of that honor shit to weigh on her mind. Her goal was always the same: looking out for number one. Nothing more, nothing less.

"MAYBE IF I NEED HELP CRASHING INTO A MOON! ISN'T THAT HOW YOUR LAST SHIP ENDED UP, GROOP?!" she hollered back, narrowing her eyes at him threateningly while her mouth quirked itself into a mocking smirk, "STRAIGHT OUT OF HYPERSPACE AND INTO ROCK. I WONDER WHAT YOUR HIRE SAID ABOUT THAT WONDERFUL CALCULATION?!" 

He growled and turned to face her head on, shaking a furry fist at her and hurling insults in various languages. She sneered as he broke for a deep breath. "SURE YOU WANT TO SAY THOSE THINGS TO ME?! WHAT ABOUT WITH MY BLASTER'S ARTILLERY EXPLODING ACROSS YOUR FACE?!" she shouted with a snarl added to her tone. He paused as her left hand slid down her side, tapping the grip on that blaster, knowing that even with the yards between them she'd hit square on. Grunting, flinging his hands at her in a way that meant she wasn't worth the trouble, he turned to the direction of the hallway he'd been headed on and walked off, mumbling obscenities.

She sneered, nostrils flaring a moment more in his direction, her adrenaline racing even after just that exchange. Once she was sure he wasn't going to head back for a second round of yelling, she was ready to turn back to the inside of her ship, to prepare for the take off that would occur once her big fuzzball of a copilot found his way back to her. Groop had been the final confirmation that she was done with this place . . . at that moment, another pair of creatures caught her eye, forcing her to turn her head and blink at them. 

Two Rodians, one clearly an adult male while the other a young child of indiscernible gender, walked down the hallway in the opposite direction that Groop had just gone, apparently oblivious to the heated exchange which had just taken place. The male had a bulging brown leather satchel, faded, worn, and stained over time, slung over his side. As he walked, the smaller of the two hurried behind him, carrying large bulkier items. As the man walked, she couldn't decide if he was a pilot or a mechanic hired by some of the more foolish and trusting captains to work on their ships. As the older of the two turned and talked to the younger, she blinked and watched as the younger's ears perked up as it seemed to gaze at the older male, as if it was hanging on every word. She sighed, her chest heaving as it took her back into her memories. . .

~The dark haired man leaned back with a large smile in the small cockpit of his ship. It was a simple, small, old ship, only capable of smaller smuggling operations, and not nearly fast enough on its best day to outrun many Imperial Starships. "We should be at the rebel base in less than an hour," he turned to the small brunette child sitting in the copilot chair beside him, the chair far to large around her petite form. She turned her brown eyes to him, adoring the man in spite of the dumpy condition of their ship, a gleaming glass pendant of a star hanging heavy around her neck. It had been a token her mother had often worn, and so she never took it off.

When her father had given it to her, she'd been filled with joy. Ever since her mother had died when the girl was two, caught in the crossfire of a cantina dispute, the man had become her entire world. Shortly after the incident, he had moved fully into the small ship he owned, bringing her along with him. She helped him with everything-inventory, maintenance, piloting, navigating- or rather, almost everything. The only thing he never let her do was aim the guns of the ship, but that was something he rarely did himself.

She adored her father, but there was just one thing she didn't understand, "Dad, why do we do this?" He frowned, "Do what?" "Smuggle supplies to the Rebels? Isn't it dangerous going against the Empire?" she asked. It never made sense to her. Her father was an overly cautious person. Why would he do things that were so dangerous? He smiled weakly, "The answer's simple, my little navigator. . ." he reached out and put a firm hand on her dark brown hair, which was braided back in a messy brown rope down her back, and wiggled her head back and forth playfully, "It's the right thing to do by the Force." She frowned, him having never mentioned a “Force”. Then again, she'd never before questioned his judgment regarding the shipments either, so she supposed that was why it never came up. She was only six after all. But they'd had to get through quite a few tight financial spots lately, he'd said, and so she had to wonder why he'd risk so much for the Rebels, who clearly didn't pay him enough for his trouble. She supposed other children didn't worry as much about such things, but her life revolved around what they did, so it was often on her mind.

"The 'Force'?" she repeated. He smiled calmly, "Yes. It's the essence behind everything and around everything in the universe. It's the balance of good and evil, and right now the Imperials are upsetting that balance, according to the Rebels. And I believe them. Darkness spreads out from the Imperials wherever they go, so the Empire can't be good for overall harmony. So, I try to help the Rebels bring balance back. Hoping one day it'll all be alright again." "But what if you never bring that balance back? What if it's never right again? What difference can we make in all of this?" she asked. 

It all seemed far too vast an idea for them to make much difference. He shrugged, shooting a crooked grin at her, "We may never bring balance and it may never be right again. Heck, my sweet, we may never make a big difference at all. But we will be rewarded. The Force ALWAYS rewards those who do good for others. Somehow."

She nodded, smiling at him, believing him with all her heart. After all, her dad had never hurt anyone on purpose and he'd made it through life. He had to be right about this 'Force' thing. At that he smiled even wider back, and he turned to the large windows facing Space before him. . .and froze, the color draining from his face. Frowning, she turned to look at what had caught his eye. And stare, at the ship approaching them far too fast to be a good thing for them, a crude emblem for the Empire smeared across on its front panels. "They must have come up on us when I wasn't paying attention," he muttered, worry in his tone. Tapping at a radar screen, he grit his teeth and bit his lip, "They're behind us too. . ." he whispered, more to himself than to her. Turning to her, as if noticing her for the first time or perhaps just regarding her differently for the first time, he whispered a hoarse, fearful voice, "Go hide under something. In a storage closet . . . anything. Be quiet. " She frowned, "What's going. . ." How could he be so unsure if he'd just told her about believing in the Force? Wouldn't it see them through? "GO!" he gasped, terror entering his voice, staring at her with wide, panicked eyes as he gripped her arm and pulled her up out of the chair.

The actions filled her with fear and panic and moving away the girl rushed away and out of the cockpit, tripping over things in her haste to get to a hiding spot. Finding a small closet that would normally be used for smaller cargo, she pushed inside and closed the door, listening as their ship slowed and powered down as the other ships latched onto it. A moment later, she heard doors opening, people shouting, and heavy boots marching just outside the door. Pushing her hands up to her mouth, she breathed hard against them, moving to crouch down near the floor between two storage containers, staring with fearful eyes at the darkness before her. Surely the Force wouldn't let them down. It couldn't, could it?~

A Wookie call broke the woman out of her memories like a slap to the face. She jumped slightly and blinked, focusing on the Wookie at the foot of the ship door's ramp. The creature gazed up with bright blue eyes peeking out from the tendrils of his brown and black furry face, nostrils twitching, wearing nothing but an artillery belt and the holster holding his bow-caster. He never wore more than that, given that with the fur covering his body he didn't need anything more on him in the cold atmosphere that was space travel. Of course the extra fur made him complain often to her about ports like Mos Eisley. But to make a living, as she often reminded him, one had to make sacrifices. And when it came to that, it was definitely a better him than her situation.

She cracked a weak smile at him, "Finally found some sad fuck, ya damn fuzz ball?" He nodded, giving a soft, grated cry of affirmation. "Good," she muttered, and hitting a button near the door mechanism, she began to let up and close the door and windows of the ship, walking down the ramp as it slowly rose up and back into the ship, to keep the craft safe from the outside world, "I was beginning to fucking wonder what the hell I’ve been keeping ya around for. . ." The Wookie made a disgruntled sound, beating his chest in an offended way. She smirked at him, hopping off to land firmly in the dirt beside the beast that towered over her by at least 3 feet, knowing that he didn't take her insults seriously. 

The remarks she made were affectionate jabs at the beast that stood three heads above her with muscles that could tear her apart, nothing more. Besides, he wouldn’t hurt her if they were more than that. In his mind he owed her too much. Perhaps a concept she didn’t play out herself, but hell, with him, it definitely worked to her advantage. She chuckled and punched his arm, the large burly thing moving gently against her force, the only “Force” she’d come to believe in, "Yeah, yeah, I know you think you're the best damn copilot in this whole forsaken galaxy. Don't be so goddamn full of yourself," she grinned, speaking in a tone laced with amusement. 

The Wookie gave his best grin and one firm palm rested on the middle of her head, wiggling it as he crooned at her. It was his way of showing affection right back at her without hugging her. He could always sense when a full hug was unwanted, and tried to abide by that rule as much as possible. She admired his restraint: the damn beast was so clingy all he ever wanted to do was grab someone in his bone crushing arms.

She smirked, shoving his arm off and turning as the two began to walk to the hallway nearby, "Yeah, yeah, I'm really happy to see you too. Alright, let's see what guys you have hooked on the line. Any names or facts I need to know about before meeting them?" she remarked, ready to head to the cantina. The sooner she met these clients, the sooner they'd be in the air . . . hopefully.

Suddenly he gripped her shoulder, and she frowned, turning to face him to find him nodding towards her left breast. Tilting her head down, she sighed, closing her eyes momentarily before frowning at what had caught her co pilot's attention. Two more symbols were showing from under her shirt where it'd moved away due to the movement of her arms. They were her least favorite marks on her entire body.

One symbol, closer to the center of her chest, was of the color black, and was an overlay of the universal symbols for hand and mouth, outlined with angular edges that caused it to form a warped pyramid. Beside it, in deep red, was an overlay of the universal symbols of change and beneath. Those formed more of a circular design due to having curved edges. She hated those symbols, and was grateful he'd pointed out that they were showing before they'd headed into the cantina. She could certainly do without the general reactions she got regarding them. 

"Thanks," she whispered hoarsely, tugging the shirt's upper lip up higher and then shrugging her vest tighter around her shoulders to help hide the symbols that were destined in design and location to not be so easily hidden. They were meant to stand out, and that was the last thing she wanted. Once she was content they were as well hidden as possible, she turned to him, "Let's go. And tell me about our new client, and whatever the hell they have in mind." Pushing past him, she marched from the Docking Bay, the creature following dutifully behind, grunting and crooning things to her as she bobbed her head, listening to him intently.

She paused upon entering the Cantina, holding up a hand to stop the Wookie's monologue, glancing at a group of Imperial StormTroopers near the doorway opposite them conversing with various bar patrons. Just the sight of the bastards sent a feeling of nervousness into her gut and set her entire body on edge. She'd need to be a bit more at ease to discuss any mission than she was right now. ‘Fucking perfect, just the thing I need right now,’ she thought with a roll of her eyes. She turned to the Wookie beside her and patted his shoulder, "Go find the new clients. I'll get something to goddamn drink and join you. Get a corner table. Somewhere dark in here. I want to avoid those ivory clad fuckers as much as possible," she muttered, hoping that a little drink would calm her nerves. The Wookie grunted with a shrug, nodding before turning and making his way through the crowd. She had no doubt she'd be able to find him quite easily, even in the darker parts of the cantina.

Turning, she walked up to the bar, leaning over and tapping the bar keeper who grunted and began to turn to her, ready to take her order. "Hey," a nearby alien slurred, pushing past her. She frowned hard at the creature, its two buggy starry eyes bulging in its head as it ordered some cocktail she'd never heard of before, as it shoved her to the side, pushing her with its elbow. As the barkeeper began to turn to fix the creature a drink, her gaze darkened at the idea of being overlooked, the nervousness in her stomach turning quickly to raw fury. Such a conversion was often made when it came to her temper, and she already felt it shooting up to her mouth, which was arguably one of her greatest weapons. . . and greatest troublemakers.

Leaning over, she shoved the offensive alien hard to the side, making the alien growl and face her. "Do you mind?" she snarled, eyes vicious and narrowed at him. If she were capable of such a thing, she was certain she'd be spitting fire. The creature growled at her and shoved her hard back, apparently not warned enough by her anger. She slammed into a large alien on her other side, which growled, whipped around, and was about to shove her back until it received a cutting look from her and noticed the hand that was instinctively moving to her blaster on that side, "You were saying?" the woman hissed, her eyes daring the burlier alien to follow through with his rage.

The alien turned around, believing it to be in his best interest to let her be, and she turned to the other alien that was chattering angrily at her, "So, don't like me shoving you back, huh, you insolent shit stain? Try having some fucker interrupt you when you’re just trying to get a goddamn drink around here." whipping her blaster around, her finger already on the trigger, she pointed it at him, slamming it onto the bar surface, "How you like it now? If not, maybe I could make you a brand new stain across the floor of this hellhole? Red? Black? Brown? What color is inside you, anyway?" she snarled, her voice going a tone darker and deeper, forming a growl. 

The alien noticeably got flustered and backed away, leaving the bar. She turned as the bartender slowly put the cocktail down and slid it forward, glancing at her nervously. The liquid inside looked like piss, but then most of the drinks in this bar did. That didn't mean they tasted like it though. Smirking, she grabbed it, "Put this on his tab. For all the trouble he caused me." Tilting the dark grey cup back, she closed her eyes, taking a sip and letting the liquid race down her throat. Bringing it back down, she winced slightly at the acidity of it, licking her slightly burning lips as she gazed at the murky liquid. Not her choice, but it was free, and laced with liquor that would help dull her nerves before meeting the prospective clients. So it would do, whatever it was. Turning, she marched off, sliding the blaster back into its holster.

She found herself growling as she passed the Modal Node band, which seemed to play even more annoyingly loud in her ear upon her passing them, the alien creature nearest her leaning forward and tilting his head expectantly to the open helmet on the floor holding a small batch of galactic credits. She snarled in response in a way that made him lean back slightly due to wariness, "Me, give you some of my goddamn money? For fucking up my eardrums? Fat fucking chance, asswad." turning the cup over the helmet, having drunk a good bit more of the liquid prior to passing the band, she poured most of the remnants into the money catching device and onto the floor around it as she continued past. Hearing disgruntled sounds behind her, she smirked, chuckling, and brought the cup back to her lips, taking a sip as she neared the table where her Wookie copilot sat studying an older white haired man in a brown robe and a sandy haired boy in a khaki tunic and brown pants.

‘Ok, enough messing around. Time for business,’ she thought, and straightened her back, walking around the small table, sliding the glass onto the surface as she sat down, leaning with her back towards the Wookie, blinking at the people before her. No matter how pissed off she may be with each passing day, she knew all too well that without clients her livelihood was completely shot. And she was in even a tighter spot for money than normal at that moment. She had to take on these clients, regardless of how deplorable she found them. That meant studying them and trying her best not to piss them off. Admittedly, the latter of the two was easier said than done. . . She let her brown eyes play on the older man, who the Wookie had informed her was Obi-Wan "Ben" Kenobi.

The man looked far too old and weathered to survive much more space travel in her opinion, but for the right price, if he wanted her to take him across the galaxy just so he could die, she would. The boy on the other hand, who the Wookie had not provided the name of, looked like a kid green and fresh off of the family home.

His hands held some calluses, but it was clear he'd led a sheltered life, with his reddened smooth cheeks, innocent eyes tainted with only a bit of distrust, and overall boyish features. Not to mention he didn't have any real scars as far as she could see.And the insecurity he displayed as he shifted nervously in his seat, eyes glancing around the dark cantina he found himself in, let her know his life hadn’t been as hard as it could be. It made her lip want to curl back in disgust. She was certain she'd seen ten times as many hardships by the time she was his age. But let him go through the galaxy with her. Let him grow up a little. If he wasn't ready for the hardships, that was no skin off her nose. She'd been wanting clients, and here they were. And even if they were so ancient it made her snicker or so young and naive it made her want to roll her eyes, they were about to pay her for taking them across the galaxy, and boy was she about to make them pay up for it.

She smiled and tilted her head, eyes glittering dangerously in the light of the Cantina, and tugged at the front of her vest, making sure her less than fabulous markings on her chest were hidden before turning to face them head on, "I'm Han Solo, I captain the Millennium Falcon." she slowly tilted her head towards the Wookie who turned his head slightly, blinking at her as he rested a furry paw on her thigh, not in an overly affectionate way but more of a way aimed at keeping her steady and even tempered during the impending exchange. 

With that having been done, the Wookie turned to glance at the two males before them, forever protective over his captain. He was going to be the silent onlooker, ready to cut in if things went south but otherwise happy to let her do the rest of the talking. She tilted her head the other way, blinking at the two men, glancing at the StormTroopers in the cantina and making sure they weren't about to get close enough to eavesdrop. She hated those goddamn Imperial boy scouts. But there were too many to cut down, and not enough time to do it. And if she started to do that, she could find herself at the unhealthy end of a very red, very dangerous weapon, wielded by a person who was rumored to breathe like he was dying, whilst being very dangerous and very much alive. That was a person that she could go all her life without meeting, thank you very much. Turning back to the two people sitting across from her, she shrugged her shoulders. Here she was, at the beginning of yet another everyday mission, she was sure. What could happen? She smirked before continuing, "Chewie here tells me you're looking for passage to the Alderaan system."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that Hana has potential clients lined up, it's time to introduce herself, negotiate, and decide whether their mission is worth her risk. And if the exchange involves shooting first, well. . . she's been trigger happy for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys and gals, miss me? Seriously though, I do apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Not only did my boyfriend and I move into our first real place together, not only did it take us two weeks to decide on which internet provider (this was his task not mine), but this chapter has also been a bitch to write, pardon the language. I've always been such a Han Solo fan, right beside my love for Darth Vader's character, and so trying to get my take on the infamous cantina scene has taken some time (not to mention the length of this chapter making it take super long to proofread, even after paragraphs were taken out that I felt were too much) to get right in the way I wanted it. But now, here it is, enjoy! And as always, I do not own Star Wars, no one could ever really own Han Solo. What I do own are the changes to the scene that I have made, and alterations to Solo's personality, body, and past. Enjoy! I hope. . .

After introducing herself Hana jerked her head back, squinting her eyes shut and downing the last of whatever was in the cup before resting it on the table and turning to the two potential clients before her.

Noticing that the younger of the two had to dart his eyes up to her face after lingering on her chest while she downed the drink, she smirked, chuckling gently as his guilty blue eyes met her knowing brown. The backwoods boy probably had never seen a woman quite as eccentric as her at the godforsaken place he was from, so she imagined she must be quite a sight for his naïve eyes. He knew nothing of the galaxy beyond Tatooine, but if he was heading to the Alderaan System, he was about to be in for a crash course. Space travel had a way of hardening people, of forcing them to realize the hard truths of the worlds beyond their own. She knew that all too well.

A part of her pitied the idea of shattering the boy's remaining innocence. He seemed a bit off, like he was still in shock regarding something that had happened recently, but his eyes still held hope. The part of her that pitied him wished he wouldn't be a part of this potential voyage, that that remaining hope could last a bit longer. But she wouldn't make money keeping people where they currently were. Profit would only come from taking them to wherever in the hell they wanted to go, and so that part of her was politely told to shut the fuck up.

As she heaved a sigh and took another sip of her drink, Ben Kenobi cleared his throat, and her dark eyes darted from the boy to the older man. Leaning back in her chair, she rested her two hands on the table and rapped her fingers against the top of it, arching an eyebrow in a way that indicated for him to either confirm Chewie's claim regarding their need for her services or reject her services or-she realized with a sad acceptance-both, should he have the mission for a smuggler but think she wasn’t able to perform it. Understanding that as his cue to continue the conversation the man leaned forward. The movement caused his blonde associate's eyes to dart to him and away from Hana. "Yes, to the Alderaan System. If it's a fast ship?" Ben remarked in a soft voice.

Hana's gaze darkened and she tilted her head to the side, frowning at him with irritated eyes, crossing her arms before her chest firmly, " 'If it's a fast ship?' You have the NERVE to ask ME that? You've never heard of the Millennium Falcon?" Ben frowned, arching an eyebrow, and shook his head with a shrug of his shoulders, "Should I have?" he asked in a way that clearly portrayed that he'd truly never heard of her ship. She rolled her eyes, leaning back and sliding her arms down further to rest just above her stomach. She wasn't naïve enough to believe that everyone in the galaxy knew of her ship, but given that the Falcon was so close to her heart, anyone who said they'd never heard of it did strike a nerve with her. It caused an illogical stem of anger to form within her, and that blossomed into a plume of fire. She sought to quench it, and gripped the cup again, to find the liquid inside gone. She grunted and slid the cup away from her, holding it to the point where her knuckles were white. Damn it, she thought, Do they keep making these damn cups smaller?

Suddenly a blue hand, slid an identical cup her way across the table, and she blinked down at it then up at the Twi’lek, who gave her a small smile, the female alien wearing nothing but a dark mid-drift top and short skirt, just enough to cover her more private areas. The only other things she wore were some black strappy heels and a black leather collar around her slender neck, proving that someone had ownership of her, most likely the bartender. Turning, the female bowed to Chewie before turning and moving back to the bar area, her metal tray tucked under her arm.

Hana smiled weakly at her copilot who nodded at her in acknowledgement of her gratitude, before gripping the glass firmly and tilting her head back as she downed about half of the liquor, letting it calm her nerves. She loved how easy it was for the Wookie to read what she needed to help with things like negotiations, and was grateful for him calling the new drink over. It was a way he kept her calm even when her natural impulse was to fight.

Leaning forward, smiling calmly at the old man, she slurred as if she hadn't just felt horribly insulted, "She made the Kessel Run in less than TWELVE PARSECS." It was a fact regarding the Falcon that she was quite proud of, especially since she’d spent most of that particular trip having electrically induced seizures. Her neck tingled and contracted where it was still scarred at the mere memory, and she reached a hand up absentmindedly, running her blunt nails over the textured skin there. It always did that whenever she stated that credential, and yet she did so every time her skills were questioned. After all, anyone who knew anything about flying knew that the Kessel Run was difficult to perform in that time limit under normal circumstances. 

So, normally throwing that fact out garnered respect even for a female smuggler like herself. But apparently the man new nothing of flying, and only showed mild fascination via a slight lift of the eyebrows, as if he assumed that was a great feat but honestly had no idea what she was talking about. She grit her teeth, her knuckles popping slightly as she clenched her hand around the glass, lifting it up to take another sip to quell her irritation some more. It was then that movement from the younger client caught her eye, and she redirected her attention to the dusty farm boy.

His own eyebrows had raised higher than the old man's, his eyes lit up in recognition of such a feat. It made her straighten her back with pride, and helped squash her irritation. But her pride wanted to see more of a reaction, more admiration for the ship she worked so hard on, and she turned her attention fully to the boy, leaning forward as if sharing a secret, glancing at some stormtroopers who had just entered the cantina questioning patrons of the bar. Perhaps her next words really did need to be whispered in that case. She didn't really want trouble from those scum if she could help it. "I've outrun IMPERIAL STARSHIPS. Not the local bulk cruisers, mind you. I'm talking about the BIG CORELLIAN ships." As the boy's face lit up even more, she smirked, her pride satisfied as best it could be at the moment, and leaned back, turning her head to Ben, winking, "Trust me, it's fast enough for you old man." The man nodded with a calm smile upon his face, "I'm sure."

At that Hana smiled, then glanced over as the troopers walked to another part of the cantina, to where some angry aliens were pointing and shouting unintelligibly in their general direction. One appeared to be missing an arm. She blinked with a frown down at the cup, moving it around between her pointer finger and thumb and watching the liquid that remained within it swirl about as she mentally prepared for her next move in the conversation. The continued presence of the troopers made her want to move things along a bit quicker, and these negotiations could get tricky so she had to word things just right. Clients unfortunately didn't come along every day for her, so when she had some, she had to milk them for all they had. And right now she definitely felt a time crunch. They needed to get out of here, now. The fact that the aliens were pointing over to where they were couldn’t be a coincidence. . . so, trying to believe that she’d said enough to sell the speed of her ship to these two, she prepared to enter into the more specific parts of the process.

She leaned back, determined to not seem too desperate, and blinked at Ben, "So, what's the cargo, and how much of it is there?" "No cargo," the old man shook his head in the same calm manner with which he seemed to handle everything. She frowned, blinking before forming a straight face once more. She relied on reading clients' reactions in order to know how to proceed to gain the most from a venture, and when a client remained as calm as he did about everything it made calculating her next move difficult.

The man only continued to smile at her, "No cargo, only passengers. Me, the boy, and two droids." She grit her teeth at that. Not much cargo often meant not much pay. It was then as he leaned forward and tilted his head down, locking onto her with a studious look, that he added, "And no questions asked.” That definitely grabbed her attention, and she blinked, tilting her head to the side as she frowned at him, the wheels in her mind spinning like the turbines on her ship. Licking her lips, she leaned forward, fishing for helpful information as she muttered, "What is it, some kind of local trouble?"

Her mind automatically went to Jabba the Hutt. The mobster was more dangerous than he initially looked, and many people owed the loan shark something. He had numerous bounty hunters who would surround him in an instant should he have trouble with anyone, hoping that he would put a bounty on their head. With so many attack dogs, his reach extended often too far for comfort, and it was always a pain to be on the Hutt’s bad side. So, whenever a potential client had trouble with Jabba, she generally steered clear of the situation. She had her own issues with Jabba, and would like to not add another to the list. Still, she really was in a tight spot financially, and may be willing to risk it, if the price was right. 

He smiled and tilted his head, glancing at the stormtroopers who still moved about the cantina, inquiring patrons about whatever, or whomever, they might be after. Ben moved his gaze back to Hana, "Let's just say we'd like to avoid any Imperial Entanglements." She glanced at the stormtroopers then back at him. And let out the deep breath she'd been holding. Well, it wasn’t Jabba, but the Empire could prove even more dangerous, especially if that bastard Vader was involved. Legends of his dark abilities were whispered throughout the galaxy and she didn't really want to see which of those legends about the helmet-head were true. . . but maybe, if she could get this mission over with quickly enough, she might not have to worry about the monster in the mask.

She glanced at the boy who was frowning at her now, then back at Ben. She took one more moment to decide what she was about to do, then smirked, leaning back, moving one foot up and resting it on the opposite knee, gripping the dusty toe of it with her leather clad hands. "Well, who wouldn't want to avoid them?" she began with a shrug, letting a joking smile cross her face, "I myself have a few tricks of my own than can help in that matter, but those'll cost ya extra." Ben frowned, tilting his head, as if trying to realize if what she'd said about her skills was a bluff or the truth, "And how much would it be, total?"

She smiled at him, eyes glittering with confidence, "10,000, all in advance." The boy leaned forward, eyes now wide with disbelief rather than amazement, " '10,000'? We could buy our own ship for that!" She frowned, eyes darting from the old man to his younger companion, "Oh, and who's going to pilot that ship, kid?" she tilted her head down, raising eyebrows at him as her lips quirked higher in amusement, her dimples climbing up her cheeks, "You?" The thought of the farm boy trying to evade starships as well as she could was laughable, and the fact that he seemed to think he could do it was more than a little insulting.

The kid glared at her and patted his chest, "You bet I could! I'm not such a bad pilot!" he shot up from his seat, glaring down at her before turning to Ben, "Come on, we don't have to listen to thi-" The old man frowned and rested a hand firmly on the boy's arm, gripping it to keep him there and shook his head in a way that advised the kid to be quiet. It was clear he didn't want to upset the captain before them. Hana tilted her head up further, frowning hard, knowing by the apologetic look in the man’s eyes what he was thinking. For all he knew, she may be the only one who would accept their journey. . .

Sighing, Obi-Wan looked at the seemingly unlikeable and quick tempered woman. Ben could sense that there was more to Hana Solo than what met the eye. There was a faint amount of the Force surrounding the girl, even if she didn't notice it. She had great things in her future, and would do things that could benefit the entire universe, he could sense it. He wanted this deal to go well, not because she might be the only pilot “crazy” enough to help them, but because something told him that she NEEDED to be the one to help them. And that decidedly meant they shouldn’t upset the female captain further. He needed her to remain calm. . .

But it was too late to try to keep Hana calm. By now Hana had risen up, sneering at the boy, " 'I'm not such a bad pilot myself!' Ha! Even if you could fly a ship, it takes more than that to get a mission completed, BOY. What about those damn 'imperial entanglements' your old friend Ben spoke of? How good are you at avoiding fucking lasers in mid air?" she let a dark smirk cross her face, "It's hard piloting when half of your goddamn thrusters are blown straight to hell, sweetheart."

The boy glared at her and stood straight up himself, so that he looked down on her slightly shorter frame. "I've dodged lasers before," he remarked, insult lacing all of his words. She chuckled, rolling her eyes, and tilted her head one way as she swung her hips the other, her hands firmly on her waist, gripping her skin there tightly, "Oh, from some Jawas or Sand People here on this goddamn dust ball of a planet? That's HARDLY a goddamn irritation compared to motherfucking Tie fighters kid. Trust me, you have NO FUCKING IDEA what you're talking about going up against. You'd be dead in an instant. The GODDAMN THOUGHT of you trying to make it to Alderaan alive is laughable at best, you green piece of shit." He fumed, nostrils flaring, glaring at her.

Meanwhile Ben was blinking, as if trying to figure out the next move. Hana growled slightly, eyes full of fire as she glowered up at the boy. The boy wasn't ready to back down, and that was enough to determine her next move. The two could try to deal with the Imperials on their own. She wasn't about to be insulted by being compared to a kid who didn't have nearly as much experience as her. She spat on his shirt and frowned, tilting her head back, crossing her arms and squaring her shoulders, glancing at the old man, "But, if you two bastards are so confident in your own fucking abilities, perhaps you don't need me after all. Have fun killing yourselves." 

Jerking her head to Chewie, her dirty hair swatting the boy in the face as she did so to her great pleasure, she jerked her head towards the nearest door out of the place as she swung her hair the other way, smacking him again, "Let's go. We're goddamn done here." The Wookie grunted, and even though he knew her temper was outshining her logic in this situation, rose to follow her. He'd never besmirch her judgment, even if he didn't understand it. They were about a foot from the table when Ben spoke, "We can pay you 2,000 now, plus 15,000 more. . . once we reach Alderaan."

Hana perked her head up slightly at that, the amount of credits being able to push through her anger and spark a nerve in her stubborn brain. She slowly turned, a spark of interest flitting across her brown eyes, " '17,000'?" Well, with that price, maybe she could work with these asshats after all. Hell, if they kept their dumbass mouths shut, it could be a rather enjoyable voyage. She smirked slightly at the thought. 

She glanced towards the lingering storm troopers, just as two bar patrons of differing species swept up and away from the bar nearby, gripping each other tightly and swinging and hissing as they fought each other, blocking the view of the troopers. Such actions were common in the cantina and now, they provided a sufficient distraction to give her more time to negotiate. It would also make it easier to get old Ben to agree to a deal he may reject otherwise, so long as he knew that the fight could disperse as quickly as it started and felt rushed to close the deal up because of that. The old man smiled and nodded at her, confirming his proposed amount, trusting and knowledgeable eyes focused on her. 

In spite of his hotheaded partner, the man knew how much they needed her to accomplish their trip without being caught. She turned fully to the pair and folded her arms, swinging her hip to the other side, cocking her head. She was about to push his sudden generosity as much as possible with the time the fight afforded them, "5,000 in advance, 15,000 when we reach Alderaan."

The old man let a brief smile cross his face before he leaned forward, deepening his voice an octave with his next words, “3,000 in advance, 15,000 at Alderaan.” She frowned slightly as she felt as though some invisible hand was trying to reach out to her. Or maybe it was just the alcohol playing with her mind. Regardless she screwed up her forehead in concentration and mentally pushed right back against the feeling. She didn't like anything trying to attack her judgment.

She narrowed her eyes slightly at his attempt to barter with her. "4,000 in advance . . ." she slurred, planting her feet further apart and squaring her shoulders, giving him a harder look as she focused on him, glancing at the fight that was already dissipating. The storm troopers would get a good look at them soon. . . and she didn’t want them to decide to head on over to see what was up. "And 20,000 when we reach Alderaan, just because you two have really pissed me off. Take it or leave it old man, that's my final offer." Even in the clatter of the cantina, a silence seemed to hang in the air between them. Ben glanced at the stormtroopers, one turning its head towards them now that the bar dispute wasn't quite blocking their view.

Hana glanced too, and knew that she'd backed the other two sufficiently into a corner with a bit of help from the Imperial enforcers. She had the old man and boy right where she wanted them. Alderaan, and 24,000 Galactic Credits, here she'd come! She smirked and held out her hand, "Do we have a deal, old man?" Ben sighed, then smiled, and gripped her hand in spite of the boy gaping at them both, "Yes, we have a deal, Captain Solo." Hana smirked and nodded, "Good. You've got yourself a ship. We'll leave as soon as you're ready. Docking Bay 94." Ben nodded, blinking at her, "94."

She nodded in confirmation that he got the number right, then jerked her head to a small hallway set into the wall nearby, currently hidden from view by both Chewie and another group of aliens getting rowdy over some game of bets. It would make for an easy getaway for her new pair of clients. "Chewie can get you out of here," she murmured. Ben nodded and turned to the boy, "Come then, Luke." She smirked and watched with just her eyes as the two walked off, "Luke" following the man reluctantly and glancing at her with a dark look, fed up that they'd ended up owing so much. She smirked right back, eyes flickering dangerously. Yeah, Junior, you best believe I jacked that goddamn price up. Just because of your motherfucking mouth. Learn to close that fucking shit hole.

Once they left, she bowed her head slightly and turning walked forward, putting her hands on the table beside her abandoned glass, and tapped her fingers against it twice, Chewie moving to stand beside her momentarily as Ben and Luke moved onward. The wookie was waiting to hear any further orders rather than continuing to follow the two males, glancing at the stormtroopers marching up. She watched them through her thick veil of hair as they paused, looked at the captain and her copilot, then walked on. And fought to keep her anger down at the disregard they gave her. She tried to remind herself that that was a good thing.

Once they were out of ear shot, she let a smirk cross her face, her eyes lit with excitement. Turning, she grinned at Chewie, holding up her hands in front of her, rubbing her palms together"24,000, wow these guys really are desperate!" Chewie grinned at her, her companion clearly relieved that the meeting had gone as well as it had, and grunted, nodding, as she patted his chest with her two palms smirking up at him with eagerness alone in her face, "This could really save my neck," she patted her own chest with one hand, jumping slightly on the balls of her feet, then patted his shoulder roughly with that hand as her face became hardened once more, all business, "Now go to the Falcon, get her ready. I'll join you shortly,” she muttered firmly.

He nodded, crooning, and putting a hand up, wiggled her hair, grinning at her before turning and walking off. She smirked after him, "You really earned your keep this time, pal." She turned back to head to the bar for another drink and froze, blinking at the green Rodian that had slinked up just as Chewie'd left. It figured he'd only approach her without her "bodyguard" of a copilot. . .

She rolled her eyes as he held his blaster up and pressed the tip of the barrel shaft to the spot just between her breasts, "Going somewhere, Solo?" With that he attempted to back her up, pressing in on her chest. She growled and pressed right back against it, narrowing her eyes at him in irritation, "Why yes, Greedo, as a matter of fact I was just going to see your boss. . ." glancing at the bar keep who was facing their way, she waved to get his attention and held up her pointer finger, nodding. He nodded and set about making a drink like the other one she'd already tasted.

She turned to Greedo and pushed his blaster tip away from her chest with that hand with a growl, brushing past him to go grab the drink, "Luckily, you happened to stumble along, so you get to deliver my message to him. . .one of the only things you're good for you snot colored piece of fucking shit. . ." snatching up the drink the bartender slid her way, she turned to the green alien, holding the glass inches from her lips, ready to take a sip. Before she did so, she pointed at him with that hand’s pointer finger, leaning back against the bar, "Tell Jabba I'll have the money for him soon enough. As soon as I get back from this next job." Closing her eyes, she dunked her head back, taking a sip of the drink and walking towards the exit of the cantina.

Greedo grunted and rushed to be in front of her, and she grunted, some of the drink sloshing about in its cup as she was forced to stop abruptly when he blocked her path. She snarled and glowered at the other creature, "You just about had this drink down my fucking front, snotbrain. You do that again and I'll definitely send you to Jabba with that money. One pathetic piece of moldy shit at a time." 

Greedo snickered holding his blaster up higher, "Then he'll send someone else, after putting perhaps an even higher price on your head. No matter how much money you may send, it will all be too late now, he’s assured me of that. You should have paid him when you had the chance," Greedo said, switching off the safety on his blaster and jerking it to a seat at the cantina table she'd been sitting at just moments before with Ben and Luke.

Hana rolled her eyes and walked over, slumping right back into the same seat she'd been in before, drinking another gulp of alcohol and leaning back, putting the same foot on the same bent knee and setting the cup on the table, gripped her foot with her left hand once more as he continued, “This isn’t a matter of getting his money, it’s a matter of getting YOU. Time’s up, Solo.” She glared down into the cup, and took another slow sip. . . She'd put up with Greedo, for now. . . she glanced at the stormtroopers still walking about the room. She didn't really want to cause that huge a scene with those bastards still there. Hopefully they'd be gone soon and she could give this little snot what he deserved . . . if she could hold her temper up to that point.

She flicked her eyes back to Greedo as he continued, leaning her head back a bit, sighing through her lips in exasperation as he continued, her hand moving her glass back to the table slowly, fingertips leaving it. "Jabba's put a price on your head so large every bounty hunter in the galaxy will be looking for you. . ." Hana smirked and tilted her head to the side, "Nice to know I'm that fucking important to him." She glanced down as Greedo continued, moving the fingertips of her hand down her side towards her blaster holder, then glanced up as she flicked the strap on the weapon holder loose and wrapped her hand around the familiar handle. It felt at home in her palm like nothing else ever would.

She took another sip of liquid courage and breathed gently as he continued on as if not hearing her words. Greedo chuckled, "Luckily I found you first." Hana smirked, "Yeah, and now you can tell Jabba I HAVE THE GODDAMN MONEY. . ." Greedo sneered, "It’s too late for that now, I already told you. If you give it to me I might forget I found you." Hana sneered right back, "Why, so every other fucking bounty hunter who thinks he’s badass enough will be chasing my fucking ship across the goddamn galaxy? No thanks. So many boneheaded assholes chasing me doesn't appeal to me nearly as much as it might to you. Besides, I DON'T have the money with me, just tell Jabba. . ." 

Greedo jerked the gun at her again, his rage at her implication regarding his sex life causing him not to notice her pulling her blaster out of it’s leather casing slowly. She glanced down, blinking at it while holding it firm against her pants leg, fingers flexing around hte soft handle as he snarled, "Jabba's through with you and your goddamn excuses! He has no time for smuggler bitches who'd be better on their backs than piloting a ship! After all what kind of smuggler drops their fucking shipment at the first sign of an Imperial cruiser?" he sneered, "You'd be better off using your shit spewing mouth around a cock than using your mind to deliver cargo."

She glowered at him, fury rising from the pit of her stomach, a great fire threatening to pour out from her, and growled as she leaned forward, fury radiating from her, a warning to smarter beings, "I'd fucking bite off someone’s goddamn sorry piece of shit cock sooner than suck on it. Besides, even I get fucking boarded sometimes. You think I had a fucking choice?!" she spat the last, her finger reaching out and resting on the trigger, twitching slightly in her anger, her head tilting down as her face screwed up in fury at the creature before her, slowly sliding her finger across the surface of the weapon, taking the safety off. 

She wanted no more in that moment than to kill him. . . but she held herself back, held herself tight on that leash. . .Greedo, if he even noticed it, ignored her escalation of emotion and continued on, crossing even further over the line drawn in the sand as she darted her eyes over, blinking at the troopers as they neared a door headed out of the cantina. The green alien sneered,"You can tell that to Jabba when you see him. He may only take your ship." 

She glowered at him all the more, "The Falcon's my LIVELIHOOD. No way in hell am I giving it to that slug." "A livelihood meant for a male, perhaps," Greedo hissed, "Why do you think you do such poor business? A male's place is to captain ships. A female's place is to warm his bed. Perhaps Jabba can teach you that and give you a NEW LIVELIHOOD on his barge. Perhaps I can be the first to utilize you properly in exchange for bringing you to him."

Hana held no mercy in her eyes as she leaned forward even closer, so her hot breath hit the pathetic alien right in the face, "Over my dead body, you snotbrained asshole." Greedo leaned forward, and reached for his own trigger, just as she aimed hers with the blaster pointed out from just inside the crook of her bent leg. "That's the idea. I've been looking forward to this for a long time, Solo," he slurred as she moved her left hand up and over to grip the bottom lip of the tabletop. At that moment the troopers left, and she smirked before turning to him, "Yes, I bet you have," she snarled, flipping the table with one hand and firing her gun with the other twice in close repetition, doing a quick jerk with that hand in order to switch aim in between the two planned shots. 

Greedo had no time to process what was happening as one shot went through his crotch and the second through his head, falling forward and collapsing onto the floor, his bleeding head lying on her boot. She snarled, putting her other foot back down on the ground and kicking him away, "Filthy alien scum." She rose up, and at that moment realized that the band had stopped playing and all the bar patrons were looking at her. She snarled at the aliens, all of them blinking at her, "What the fuck are you goddamn lot looking at?" she said, still holding the blaster up towards them all, eyes fiery embers as they gazed at all around accusingly, "Anyone else want my blaster up your crotch? If so I'll GLADLY fucking service all of you bastards!"

After a moment of awkward silence, the aliens turned back to their conversations and the band started back up. She rolled her eyes and jammed her blaster into her holster again, jerking her vest tighter around her upon noticing her chest markings were showing yet again. Growling, she marched towards the hallway Ben and Luke had gone through before, glancing at the bar keep as he moved around the bar to get up the body, mop and bucket in hand in an attempt to get up anything that might have spilled. "Sorry about the mess," she muttered, turning away from him, sliding a hand into her currency pouch and pulling out some credits before tossing them on the dead bounty hunter as she made her way down the hallway towards the docking bays.

As she walked, she jammed her hands in her pockets and sighed, tense shoulders relaxing slightly as she hung her head, hair falling forward to veil her face. As a voice she tried so often to push from her mind came back to her from the dregs of her memory: "No, there's no need for violence! No need!" She grit her teeth. They were naïve words that held little truth and were of no use to the female smuggler in the harsh world she resided in. Still she couldn’t block them out. They were words from her father in his last moments. And so she couldn't help but dwell on them and the memory they triggered. . .

After what seemed like endless footsteps and shouts, the door was forced open and Hana gazed up in fear at the two males standing before her. One male wore a dirty beige shirt with a brown fringed vest over it. His long black hair was oily and smeared with grease and grime, as was his mustache. His eyes were the color of glass, holding apathy and promising cruelty as he gazed down at her. His skin held a light blue tinge and her eyes immediately went to the large blaster strapped to his side. His partner had no hair, and wore a black jacket with pockets and gray pants, a large ugly scar running down the side of his face and under the black patch that rested over his right eye, a large metal staff strapped to his back. His visible eye was as dark as space, and just as void of emotion. His skin was paler than any color of white she'd ever seen.

The two exchanged a look that Hana didn't understand before grabbing her and hauling her out of the closet and down a hallway. She began to jerk, shrieking, begging to know where her father was, heart hammering in her chest so loud it flooded her ears. When they led her through the door leading from her father’s ship onto the two males’, she saw him. Space pirates of varying looks, species, and sizes surrounded her father with weapons focused on the male humanoid who had been beaten to the point of having bloody sides, busted up knees, a split lip, and a face so swollen you could barely make it out. If she hadn't spent so much of her life with him, she wouldn't have been able to even recognize him.

Her heart hammered all the more and Hana cried out and rushed forward, or at least tried to. The males on either side of her gripped her firmly, jerking her back. The bald one leaned down, sneering in her ear, "Be a good little girl now and don't squirm. Let your daddy say something to you in his final moments." She turned to him, tears forming in her eyes as his stale breath hit her face. “P-please, let me go to my daddy, please! Let me help him!” she pleaded, her small voice begging the alien for mercy that wasn’t ever there. He smirked, revealing metallic fangs, “Nothing you could do would help him now, precious. Now . . .” He gripped her chin firmly and jerked it up, so that tears pricked the corners of her eyes, “Be a good little girl and let daddy talk.” 

She gulped and licked her lips, sucking them in to be between her teeth to show she'd comply, shivering as he ran a hard finger over the edge of her bottom lip that still protruded from her mouth, her not understanding the soft groan that released from his own lips as he did so. Moving his finger away he smirked and patted her cheek roughly, making her whimper as he leaned back up and loosened his grip on her. “Such a good, obedient little girl. . . she’ll fetch a good price,” the long haired alien murmured, sliding up behind her and cupping her butt firmly, giving it a soft squeeze. “L-let go of me, p-please,” she whimpered out, shutting her eyes tightly as tears leaked down. 

“Awww, sweetheart’s afraid of the big bad pirates?” the one behind her chuckled, moving the hand slowly up her back before moving around and gripping her chin, “Don’t worry young one . . .” She whimpered as her head was tilted back, gazing tearfully at the pirate, who rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip, bearing down into it and making her whimper as the nail pressed in to the point of making blood seep out, “You be a good little girl and you won’t have anything to worry about. . .” the alien chuckled and rocked his hips firm against her, and she jerked away from the hard warm heat that rocked against her backside, unable to move far enough as his lips moved down towards hers. . .

The alien roared in anger, and backhanded her as blood streamed from his lips, flinging her hard to the floor and busting her nose. His foot slammed down between her shoulders and she slammed against the metal floor, groaning, her vision coming in and out of focus as she saw the shadow of her father begging them to leave her be as warm blood streamed down the side of her face, "No, there's no need for violence! No need!" he screamed before a firing blast was sounded and she saw his shadow fall as well. She cried a mournful cry as one of the males behind her muttered about the other hurting their goods before they had a chance to put them on the market.

Hana sighed. That had been the beginning of the end for her believing the universe to be a kind place, and had been the beginning in her knowledge of the truth: the Force wasn't real, good didn't come to those who served the Force, and the only thing you could count on when it mattered was cruelty. She lifted her head at that moment and staggered to a stop to stare at the bounty hunter in his dark green armor standing before her. His cape and armor were tattered, but the "Y" shaped black slits of his helmet shone even in the low dusty light of the hallway, just as the blaster in his gloved hands did as he held it pointed right at her. She frowned hard at him and took a step back, hand moving to her blaster, five feet alone between the two of them. "You have no time to grab it and you know it," the hunter said, his voice scratchy through the helmet's mouthpiece and speaker. 

He reached up with one gloved hand and hooked the thumb under the front lip of his helmet, lifting it off and shaking out his long black hair from its confines, frowning at her with cold black eyes, a jagged scar down the side of his face, the sides of the crevice tugging at the tanned skin in an ugly burned way. Hana grit her teeth as he frowned at her, "Catching the 'Great Captain Han Solo' off guard. Now that's quite a feat." Hana heaved a sigh, "Hello Boba," she said shakily with a small smile full of nervous energy as she glanced at the male's gun pointing right at her head, "It's been a while." Stalling Greedo to the point of grabbing her blaster pistol was an easy task. Stalling Boba would without a doubt be a greater feat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, what did you all think? The more I write about Hana, the more I realize: part of me is going into her, the part that likes to drink (which people do know about) along with the part of me that just wishes I could lash out and deal with people in a rowdy way sometimes. She has definitely become a character that I hold dear and that I try to meticulously right into this different take on the Han Solo character. Please comment with what you think, I will try to have the next chapter posted soon!

**Author's Note:**

> So what do you all think? Good, bad? Somewhere in between? Let me know! New chapter will hopefully be posted soon!


End file.
